log(minus 1) anthology
by tysunkete
Summary: AUs. Unconnected drabbles that never made it into proper one-shots. Chapter 5: Volleyball AU. (I'm in too deep with Haikyuu. I also don't know the rules of volleyball ;v;) LaviYuu.
1. Cupcake AU

**"Hello I'm your boss and you're the new employee who just saw me shove an entire cupcake into my mouth." AU**

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><p>Kanda stares up at the sky scraper, the tallest in New York. It's raining today and he hasn't got an umbrella, but he really needs to dash across this twenty meters from the subway entrance to get to the damn building. It's his first day at <em>Bookman Inc.<em> and he's already late and about to get wet. There's no choice for it, so he grits his teeth and swears—the torrential downpour just had to occur while he was on the train. His suit gets soaked through and his bangs stick to his face, but, what the hell. Nothing could already make his day more shitty than it already has been.

The thing is, Kanda doesn't want to work at _Bookman Inc_. Sure, it's about the richest company right now with decades of credibility under its wing—the enterpriser Bookman is an elusive figure despite the billions of dollars he's worth. In the late 50s a simple company set up shop dealing with security systems, and now forty years later it has emerged into a conglomerate with the most intimidating power in the financial chain. Rumours say that the way the company is run is the secret to such success, and the only way for such a 'success' to occur…Kanda suspects that this job is going to kill his soul in exchange for the hefty salary.

But he shouldn't complain, because he's fresh out of college and he has a job, which is not what he can say for most of his graduating class. Granted, the job isn't spectacular either; he's actually a personal assistant to one of the bosses. He never thought he'd _apply_ to be a personal assistant, but he majored in English and he didn't know what the hell he wanted to do—still doesn't—so when an advert came by his way, he had thought 'why the hell not'. He was convinced he wasn't going to get called to the interview in the first place, but he was and he was sure he wasn't going to pass it either; he answered all questions to the panel as clipped as his personality is used to while a creepy taciturn old man was watching in the corner, but hey, here he is: late and wet on his first fucking day. Goddammit.

The glass doors of the building immediately slide open when he's standing in front of it, causing a cool blast of air conditioned air to blow directly into his face. He shivers a bit and heads to the reception, palming his fringe out of his eyes.

"I…I was told to report here. First day."

The receptionist, demeanour poised and fingernails manicured, smiles at him. "Your name, sir?"

"Yuu Kanda."

Her fingers run over the keyboard while Kanda shifts his gaze around, trying not to feel how uncomfortable he is because water has seeped into the back of his shirt.

"Mr Kanda?" He turns his eyes back to the girl, where a phone is pressed to her ear. "Mr Bookman will see you in his office," she nods, sliding over a card. "Seventy seventh floor, the elevator on your right."

Kanda takes the card and nods his thanks, making his way over to the right side of the lobby. There is one lone lift at the end of the corridor that he walks through, away from the other lifts on the left. He presses the button but nothing lights up, then he notices a scanner above it. He flashes the card he's holding onto it, mildly impressed when the elevator starts moving, digital numbers counting down the levels.

And then it hits him. The fancy card and private elevator. Bookman? Shit, he's the personal assistant to the _big fucking_ _boss_. Maybe he should've cared a bit more about who he was going to work under. Maybe. But that's too late to ponder about now, especially since that his hair is dripping puddles onto the marble floor and he's probably going to get fired for being late. Kanda rides up the elevator with trepidation, running over the various scenarios that might happen—but he doesn't even know how the big boss looks like, probably some old man in his late sixties with demands like caviar for a snack. Kanda, personally, hates caviar.

The seventy seven floor arrives much faster than he likes, but Kanda is no coward. He got stuck in the sub and the rain is terrible, both are truths that he couldn't have predicted, so fuck it. He's got to face his boss at some point. The floor is quiet, his shoes makes the worst squeaky noises as he steps in, mentally judging the black marble walls and glass panels that make the office look very sleek, but also pretty pretentious.

When he exits the corridor he sees only a glass desk with a telephone on it, and further in there's another glass encased room, one that probably takes up the most of the entire floor, with an even larger glass table that's strewn with folders and papers, and a huge black roller chair that's faced away from his direction. There is a sort of humming that comes from behind the chair, which Kanda assumes that's his boss.

Kanda pauses at the inner room's doorway, unsure if his presence is known—his shoes made a racket that he could've woken up from—but the humming continues and it actually gets louder. Okay. Either his boss is one of those eccentric let me smile while you're fucked to death types, or just really deaf. Kanda knocks on the glass door, but the chair doesn't turn around. He scowls. Fine, he's being ignored because of his tardiness, but if he's going to get reprimanded, he's rather just get this over with.

"Sir," he says as loudly as he can.

The humming stops abruptly and the chair swivels around so fast that the person on it nearly topples over. A redhead about his age stares at him with his hand pressed to his mouth, and a…what was that, a fucking cupcake (?) lodged in. An earbud drops from the redhead's ear to his collarbone, and Kanda stares back, bewildered.

"F-fug—" the redhead scrambles up, yanking the earbuds away from his face and shoving his music player to some corner of the table.

The other hastens to chew and swallow the cake he's just stuffed into his mouth, but he ends up choking a bit and turns around, slapping his chest. It takes at least three minutes before the redhead straightens up as much as he can with crumbs at the side of his mouth.

"Err…hi," he begins, and Kanda takes the time to notice that the other is dressed similarly in a suit like he is, but the other is slightly taller, and he also weirdly has a medicinal eye patch over one eye. "You didn't see that."

Kanda raises an eyebrow. He doesn't care if other employees skimp on their work, as long as it doesn't affect him. "Where's the boss?"

"Boss?" the redhead repeats questioningly.

"Mr Bookman," he clarifies. "I was told to meet him here."

The other blinks. "I'm Bookman."

This _kid_? (Even though they're probably the same age, but well.) "I don't have time for this," Kanda says with narrowed eyes. "Where is he? You can't be a boss in this company and certainly not _Bookman_."

"Um, actually, I am?" the redhead says slowly. "I'm Lavi Bookman—oh, oh, you're talking about the old man," he hums. "Nah, he only comes to the office if I screw something up. I've been the "boss" for about a year now."

"No fucking way."

The redhead—Lavi—frowns. He holds up one finger and reaches for the phone. "Hey, Emilia? Could you come up here for a sec? And bring Yuu Kanda's file. Please and thanks."

Kanda eyes the other for any sort of waver in his manner; if this is an act then he can wait for the inevitable slip up, but a minute later a blonde in high heels makes her way in.

"Mr Bookman, here's the file you requested."

"Great," Lavi grins, gaze shifting over to Kanda. "Now, could you convince him that I'm the CEO?"

The girl pauses, turning to look between the other two slowly. "What do you mean?"

"It appears that Yuu doesn't believe that I'm his boss."

"Don't use my first name," Kanda scowls, a reflexive action. "He stuffed a cake into his mouth when I came in," he states in return.

"You didn't see that!" Lavi interjects hastily. "I mean, sure, that was unprofessional but I was _hungry_."

"Well…Kanda," Emilia begins, raising an eyebrow. "I suggest that you _at least_ look up the company website before you apply for a job, and Mr Bookman," she sighs. "Crumbs," she taps at the side of her mouth.

Lavi quickly wipes at his mouth, trying not to look contrite.

Emilia presses her lips together, though there is an amused tinge to it. "You have work to do. Get on with it, sir."

"Yeah, yeah," Lavi grumbles as he watches the girl take her leave.

"I'm not convinced," Kanda says during the resulting silence.

The redhead beckons him over to where the other is, and he reluctantly obliges. There's just no way he's going to be a _personal assistant_ to a guy who looks just as young and stupider than he is, but as Lavi accesses the computer on the desk with a login and password, Kanda dreads the twist in his abdomen. An internet browser is pulled up and a quick google search leads them to the company's website: _Bookman's Inc._, and the first thing that Kanda sees are red hair and one green eye.

_Lavi Bookman, 24, CEO to Bookman Inc. has recently been credited with—_

Kanda breathes in and lets a slow breath out.

Fuck his life.


	2. Ice slipping AU

**You slipped on a patch of ice and I happened to be walking behind you and you fell into my arms wow you're really attractive AU. Sorta.**

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><p>College is where <em>new things happen<em>, Alma had said. College is where you _meet new people_, try _new things_, Alma had also said. Yeah well, Kanda has been in college for a term and he's still stuck with the said person, so, no, he doesn't really believe his stupid best friend. Maybe it has more to do with that he's antisocial and a wet blanket and a kill joy and would much rather spend his time in the gym than to show up at bar crawls. And it probably doesn't help that he and Alma are course mates—it's not like Kanda is going to expend extra effort to get to know other people since there is already one annoying leech to his arm. He hasn't really noticed the other people around him, except for, he might grudgingly allow, this certain redhead who's walking so _excruciating_ slow in front of him that he's resisting the urge to throw a knife in the other's back.

He doesn't, because he doesn't have a knife at the moment—and also he kind of maybe likes watching the flaming red hair (real or not, he's curious) being swept by the cold winter wind. He doesn't know who the guy is; it's just, one day whilst walking across campus to get to another lecture theatre, he finds himself eyeing this redhead with an eyepatch (so weird) and checkered scarves who's always been walking in front of him in the same route. It starts off as nothing major—Kanda judges the scarves, the fingerless gloves, the leather bands on the other's wrists for close to two weeks, and then Alma noticed their considerably slow pace in the particular walk to a certain lecture theatre.

Needless to say it became a train wreck of his dignity.

"Yeah, you could _almost_ just reach out and grab that arse," Alma whispers, and Kanda elbows him violently.

"Shut the fuck up, you fucking asshole," he hisses, because it's been once too many.

Alma snickers. "We've been trailing after him for three months," the other replies blandly, though he is careful to keep his voice low. "Even_ I_ can recognise his back anywhere by now. If you're going to be pathetic, don't drag me into it."

"We have to walk this way to class, you dumbass."

"We also don't have to be late for class every single time because lover boy walks so _fucking slow_," Alma retorts. "Don't even bother with the whole denial thing, okay, that was so three months ago. Literally."

"Just shut the hell up."

"Just touch his arse, man. It's way more exciting than your creepy stalking."

"I said shut up."

"I bet you've secretly thought of that," Alma smirks. "You're blushing. Oh fuck, you're really blushing—"

It may be true, but Kanda is pretty sure most of the red from his face is more about anger and a testament to someone who was going to _die_. Alma grins and dodges the predictable kick that gets aimed his way.

"Come back here, you fucking coward!"

"Who's the coward, you hypocrite loser!"

But of course all that (friendly) banter is bound to attract the attention of the people around them, namely the certain redhead walking in front of them. Lavi cocks his head backwards at the sudden shouting, curious. He sees two Asians trying to tackle each other for some amusing reason and accidentally steps on an ice slated portion of the pavement.

"Woah—shit—"

One of his foot skids forward and he curses, squeezing his eye closed for the inevitable painful landing on the cold ground, but seconds pass and it doesn't come. Instead, he feels like he's being held very warmly from the back. Confused, he opens his eye and stares up some long bangs looming over him. He hasn't ever seen eyes so piercing nor in such a deep shade of navy on an Asian, and an incredibly attractive one to boot—flawless skin, flawless symmetry…

"….Hi," he breathes, dazed.

Those eyes scan him for a moment before they blink, and suddenly Lavi hits the ice cold floor.

"Oww," he winces, slowly groping around to push himself up. "Why did you drop me?" he frowns, incredulous.

"You're heavy," is the short reply he gets from the other, who has stood up and turned away hastily.

"Wait, wait—!" Lavi scrambles to get himself up, approaching the other. "I, uh, thanks. For catching me."

The long haired Asian steps back and refuses to meet his gaze, which is kind of cute. "I wasn't—" the other starts.

"You're pretty strong, for a girl," he continues, smiling. "Let me buy you a drink. Or dinner, if you don't mind?"

There is a very long pause and Lavi mentally panics that he's said something wrong. Maybe the other was offended about the 'for a girl' remark? Was that sexist? Maybe. Probably. Shit. Before he can apologise for it, though, the other Asian who is standing nearby bursts into loud laughter, and Lavi feels more bewildered than anything.

"Oh my fucking god," Alma gasps, shaking so hard from laughter. "I'm sorry, Yuu, I really am but oh my god—"

Kanda grinds his teeth at the stupid asshole he calls his best friend who's literally dying from laughter and tightens his fist, trying not to let on about how fucking _humiliated_ he feels. So what if he's androgynous, so what if he gets mistaken for a girl about like twenty times a day, so fucking what if the only person he wanted to like was also a complete bullshit asshole—_fuck his life_.

He raises his gaze in challenge, glaring at the redhead. "I'm not a fucking girl," he growls out, dark.

Lavi's eye widens in realisation, along with the obvious flicker of gaze to the (non-existent) chest. "Oh. _Oh_. Fuck, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, it's just, you're incredibly beautiful, I just assumed—"

Alma laughs even harder and Kanda has no will to stay in the vicinity any longer. This is the reason why he _hates_ being called 'beautiful' or any variation of it—pretty, gorgeous, cute; stupid idiots with stupid preconceived notions. Fucking dicks.

Kanda intends to storm away, but the redhead catches him by the arm in alarm.

"Wait! What's your name?"

"None of your fucking business," he snarls.

"Are you still angry? I said I'm sorry!"

"So fucking what?" Kanda snorts. "Leave me alone, asshole."

Kanda clucks his tongue in disdain but the redhead refuses to let him go.

"I mean it. I'm sorry."

"Save it for someone who cares!"

"But you obviously care!"

"Like hell I do!"

"Then why are you so upset?!"

"I'm not fucking _upset_, you're being fucking annoying!" Kanda snarls, and Alma actually comes to physically restrain him before he lashes out.

"Woah, woah, Yuu. Chill. Don't punch the guy, okay?"

"I wasn't going to," Kanda huffs, shrugging both Alma's hold and the grip on his arm off him.

Lavi eyes him carefully as they wallow in the resultant silence. "Why are you so angry?" he asks cautiously. "It was an honest mistake."

"How the fuck do I look like a damn female?" Kanda glares, jabbing a finger towards his face.

Lavi opens his mouth. "Uh—"

There are a lot of things he could say to that, but because of the dark desire of murder lurking underneath the other's expression, he shifts his glance to the other person standing with them for help.

"Hey, don't look at me bro, there is no correct answer to that."

"Alma, shut the fuck up," Kanda hisses.

"It's not a bad thing—" Lavi begins, but swallows the rest of the sentence when he feels the murder intent become tangible. "Look," he sighs, raising his hands in surrender. "I'm sorry, okay? I just wanted—want to thank you for saving me from a concussion, though my ass did hurt in the end. And," he wets his lips nervously. "If you don't mind…I still want to treat you to dinner sometime."

Alma stares, because there isn't anyone possibly crazy enough to do that after a shouting argument, but hey, miracles do happen.

"…No," Kanda states flatly, and turns on his heel.

Or apparently not, Alma blinks, watching his best friend storm off without him. Personally he doesn't _get it_—Kanda has been crushing on this guy for like, _three months_, and their accidental interaction before had to be a spiritual intervention because Kanda was most definitely never going to make the first move but when the opportunity finally comes up the answer is a _no_? What the actual fuck?

"What the—Yuu!" he calls, but Kanda is fast disappearing into the crowd several feet away. "God, what an idiot," he mutters under his breath.

He glances towards the redhead who's watching the figure in the distance with a flabbergasted and disappointed expression.

"Alma," he starts, holding out his hand.

The redhead blinks and takes it. "Lavi."

"He actually likes you, he just has really weird ways of expressing his affections," Alma says.

Lavi shakes his head. "Nah, it's okay. It was my fault. I shouldn't have assumed too quickly."

"Huh," Alma cocks his head for a moment of thought before he slings his backpack to the front and rips off a piece of paper from one of his notes and digs for a pen to scrawl an address on it. "You know what? Yuu will meet you at this restaurant tonight at seven," he presses the paper to the other's chest.

"I don't think that's—"

"I just need to know one thing," Alma talks over him with narrowed eyes. "Do you just want to fuck him or do you actually want to get to know him?"

"What?"

"Granted, Yuu is prickly and he's weird and antisocial but that's because everyone doesn't see past his face. So, are you willing to have dinner and not sex with him? Because he's a virgin, but don't tell him I told you."

"I—I…I was really thinking of just dinner," Lavi manages.

"Good," Alma nods. "Because if you weren't I'd hunt you down and kill you. I still will, if you try something stupid tonight. With that in mind, be there on time, Yuu hates tardiness."

"Okay, but—"

"No matter how Yuu acts, just remember he's been crushing on you for three months," he grins. "Anyway, I'd love to stay and chat but I'm late for class," he pats the redhead on the back, quickly heading off. "Don't disappoint me, Red!"

"But—"

Lavi sighs when he's left alone, and sighs again at the slip of paper in his hand. _Yuu_, was it? What a pretty name, he thinks absentmindedly, and then pauses. He's not going to mention that during dinner. He needs to write that down, just in case.


	3. Pitch perfect AU

**Pitch Perfect AU. Ba dum, ba ba dum, ba ba dum, ba ba dum. **

_Notes:_ This was written some time ago for black-order-exorcists on tumblr for a fic request giveaway, and though I did plot whole story for this I don't think I have the drive to actually see it to the end. Welp, here it is.

Original request: _hmm._ _what about Allen bails on his booth for a college activities fair (leaving Kanda to do it) and he meets Lavi? Lavi could be a dip shit and not know/want to have anything to do with what Kanda is promoting and only joined to get closer to him lol. You can morph it however you like, of course :3_

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><p><em>-please don't stop the music (music music music)-<em>

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><p>"I'm going to get something to eat," Allen announces, standing up.<p>

"Sit your ass down, beansprout," Kanda immediately snaps, sending a side eye glare. "I am not sitting at this stupid booth alone."

"Yeah? Look at this," Allen smiles sweetly, gesturing the space around him. "You don't see anything, do you? That's how much I care right now, _darling_," he grins.

"Fuck you."

"You only have yourself to blame, stupid Kanda," Allen mutters, ignoring the threatening grab on the edge of his shirt as he tries to walk away. "Let me go, you'll crinkle my shirt!"

"How is this my fault, exactly?" Kanda demands, purposely tightening his hold on the other just because he knows how annoyed the younger boy gets when he has to spend the extra time ironing out his finger marks.

"How is this _not_ your fault, exactly?" Allen retorts, pinching the irritating hand until Kanda curses and lets go. "It's been a _week_ and we haven't got any potential recruits because of your sour attitude that keeps scaring them off!"

"Yeah, because they all suck! I'm doing us a favour, goddammit!"

"As I recall you gave me the same treatment last year when I first wanted to join—"

"So? You sucked too."

"—and it's only because I learnt to treat you as the irritating jerk with all talk and no bite that you are that I—"

"You want to say that again, you fucking—"

"Boys."

Both of them still, glancing at the source of the voice. A pretty Asian girl stands with her hands on her hips, unamused. Allen huffs and lets go of the grip he has on Kanda's shirt, and narrows his eyes when the other doesn't do the same.

"Put him down, Kanda."

"Not until I murder his fucking—"

"Down," the girl orders, and Kanda roughly drops the grip on Allen's collar. "I leave for half an hour and you two can't keep your hands off each other?"

"Don't put it that way, Lenalee, I will throw up my lunch," Allen grumbles. "Speaking of which, I was going to get a sandwich."

Lenalee chuckles and pets his shoulder. "Go ahead. Come back as soon as you can, okay? Kanda might burn down our booth if he's left alone too long."

"Thanks for the fantastic idea," Kanda mutters, crossing his arms.

"If you do it, Alma will stay in your room for a month," Lenalee replies without a beat, and she turns to smile at him innocently. "Sit down."

Kanda sours and sits. "Why can the brat go and _I_ can't?" he demands as Allen bounds away.

"Because," she sighs. "You ditched every slot I assigned you to mend this booth for the past four days only to pop in when we're auditioning them just to scare them off!"

"Lenalee," he states calmly. "They sucked."

"So do you," she mutters.

"I heard that. None of them can hold a fucking pitch. Fuck, that stupid ass yesterday nearly made my fucking eardrums _bleed_. Bloody hell, how the fuck did he think he could ever sing, much less fucking _acapella_?"

Lenalee rolls her eyes. "You've got to give them a chance."

"In exchange for a ruptured ear? No thanks."

"You gave Allen a chance."

"I didn't. The stupid bean just kept coming," he wrinkles his nose. "Because of you."

"Hmm mmm," Lenalee nods, smiling. "And he's _good_ right?"

"He still sucks."

Lenalee shakes her head. "You're such a jerk."

Kanda scoffs. Yeah well, he knows that. It's a miracle that Allen even joined them last year. It was exactly the same scenario when they were recruiting juniors for their acapella group during college fresher's activities week last year—Kanda ditched his booth duty slots, strolled in during the evening auditions and verbally tore every single one of them apart for their horrible excuse of a voice. In his defense they _truly_ sucked, okay, and he isn't going to suffer trying to harmonize with idiots who can't keep a simple rhythm. They should just keep to their group in his opinion—they synchronise decently despite the addition of one beansprout, and if some kid really wants to sing they can just set up their own society, just like _they_ did. But Lenalee wants to keep the _tradition_ going; a stupid sentimental dream, he tells her, and gets a painful kick in the knee for it.

"Where are you going?" he asks suspiciously when Lenalee turns on her heel.

"I haven't seen the booths in the North cloisters yet," she says, giving a small wave. "I'll see you later."

"What's the fucking point?" he squints. "You're already in a society."

Lenalee raises an eyebrow. "I was at this booth for the past four days covering for you when you were supposed to be here. I think I'm entitled for some free time today, don't you think? Besides," she smiles. "You're a grown man, Kanda, you can't possibly be scared of staying at the booth alone."

"I'm not _scared_—"

"Great," she claps her hands together. "If someone wants to write their name down on the list, _let_ them. If find out that you snapped their head off," she points threateningly. "I will end you."

Kanda huffs. "Whatever."

Lenalee trots off which leaves him alone. Scared, hah, he's not scared of being alone at their stupid booth. It's just, he doesn't want to be in a position where he's expected to be _nice_ and _talk_ to stupid people who come and ask stupid questions like '_what do you do_?'. What's the fucking point of the banner and the flyers if they're not going to be read?

Thankfully it's heading to the later part of the afternoon and it's the last day of the week which means less people hanging about, but someone still walks to his booth and lingers at the table. Kanda doesn't pay the person any heed as he's staring off into space contemplating about dinner (Lenalee should give him a medal for not "scaring" the idiot off, whatever) but then his attention gets called.

"Hey, are you alone here?"

Fuck, when is the bean or Lenalee coming back? Kanda glances over for his usual judgemental once over, and isn't disappointed when he sees a rather tall redhead in a long sleeved shirt and tight jeans. God, his guy smiles much too wide and has a loss of an eye covered by a leather eyepatch. Mega weird.

"As you can see," Kanda starts sarcastically. "You're not fucking blind."

The redhead pauses at the harsh tone, but then he throws Kanda completely off when he tilts his head back and laughs. "Well, I'm half blind, so you're half wrong. What happened to your society mates?"

"Why do you care?" Kanda retorts, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. "What do you want?"

The guy only grins. "How are you attracting freshers with that attitude?"

"I don't care," Kanda repeats. "If you don't want anything, go the fuck away."

That's usually when nosy people get put off enough to walk away, but this redhead doesn't. Instead, the guy leans his hip on the table like he's going to_ hang around _for a bit. Fuck no.

"I'm Lavi. Third year, History." he says causally. "There's nothing to do for us seniors during fresher's week, yeah?" he shrugs. "I'm here for the free stuff, to tell the truth, but it seems like you guys don't have any. What's your name?"

Kanda pauses and squints a bit, because he's _pretty sure_ he's getting hit on. He can't really tell unless he gets groped which happens all the fucking time, but if this leads on to that, Kanda is all ready to relieve the spent up irritation he has from sitting at this stupid booth.

"None of your business," he says instead.

"Okay," Lavi replies, seemingly not deterred. "So, what you promoting?" he asks instead, leaning further forward to look at their flyers on the table.

"Society."

"I can see that."

Kanda sighs, annoyed. Fucking idiots. "Then you can read the damn thing on your own."

The redhead chuckles a bit like it's the most amusing comment he's ever made (weirdo), and sets his gaze toward the coloured paper. "Huh," he begins after scanning it with a surprised gleam to his eye. "Wow. You sing?"

Kanda immediately glares at the tone. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, uh, you don't look like you use your mouth very much."

The glare gets darker. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"An observation," the other says easily. "Hey, sing something for me."

"No."

"Oh come on," the redhead grins. "I'd bet you have a beautiful voice to match your beautiful face."

Kanda stares, incredulous. "What the _fuck_?" he snarls, grabbing the other's shirt down so roughly that Lavi involuntarily chokes at the sudden position. "Say that again and I'll kill you. I'm not fucking interested."

"Okay, noted," Lavi winces, gently trying to pry the grip off him. "I'm sorry, really, but I _wasn't_ hitting on you, I was just saying—" Kanda's grip tightens threateningly and Lavi sighs. "—…nevermind. Sorry. Can you let go of me now? It's kind of uncomfortable."

Kanda does so with an irritated snort. "Tch. Go away already."

"Are you always this violent with everyone?" The redhead muses, pulling at the fabric where Kanda's unforgiving finger marks are at. "Anyway, if I join, I can hear you sing, right?"

Kanda nearly chokes. "Oh hell no. You're not qualified."

"How do you know that?"

"You're not," Kanda says flatly. There's no way in hell this smarmy guy can _sing_.

"You're not even going to audition me?" the redhead cocks an eyebrow, waving one of their flyers in the air.

"I can _tell_."

"Now you're just being rude," the other grins. "Come on. I'm not a professional but I know I can hold a note."

"My fucking ass—"

"Kanda! Don't you dare—" A loud shout comes from across the corridor, and both of them turn to see a white haired boy cradling a plastic bag from _Sainsbury's_ trotting up to them quickly "…Lavi?"

"Brit!" Lavi laughs, surprised, ruffling up the shorter boy's hair when he was within arm reach. "Hey, haven't seen you in a while. How've you been?"

"Pretty alright," Allen smiles, trying to wave the hands away from his head. "What about you? Why are you here? Don't you have duties at the sci-fi society?"

"Nah, you can only be a committee member for one year remember? I'd thought I'd take it easy this year, final year and all," he hums. "But then I saw your booth and it looked kind of interesting—"

"You fucking liar," Kanda interjects with a raised eyebrow. "You didn't know what this stupid booth was."

"So? It looked interesting," Lavi replies, unaffected. "I was just talking to _Kanda_ here and he didn't want to let me audition—"

"Wait, you _talked_ to _him_?" Allen pauses, jabbing his thumb towards the man sitting at the booth.

"I did not—"

"A couple of sentences were exchanged, so yeah sure, why?"

"A miracle has been made," Allen says slowly, as if in awe.

"Fuck you, beansprout."

Allen ignores the comment, smiling. "So, you wanted to audition?"

"Hmm, yeah, if I can? Is it super formal or—"

"No, not at all! You just have to sing one verse and chorus from any song you like to us, maybe later today?"

"Huh, that's easy," the redhead nods, and after a pause a slow grin creeps up his lips. "Actually, I could do one now if you like."

"You'll have to sing it again to our president, but sure, why not?"

Kanda crosses his arms and inwardly groans—RIP to his ears, he's going to blame Lenalee for this. There is a few seconds of silence as Lavi nods slowly as though remembering a rhythm, and his fingers start to drum the table. And then he opens his mouth.

"_I threw a wish in the well, don't ask me I'll never tell, I looked at you as it fell, and now you're in my way—"_

Of all songs, of all fucking songs—

"_I trade my soul for a wish, pennies and dimes for a kiss, I wasn't looking for this, but now you're in my way—" _The redhead sways as he snaps his fingers in tune, expression as though he's on the verge of laughing. "Y_our stare was holding, ripped jeans, skin was showing, hot night, wind was blowing," _the other deliberately winks at Kanda, who still hasn't dropped the horrified look_. "Where you think you're going baby?"_

"_Hey I just met you_," Lavi sings as loud as he can, much to Kanda's chargin. "_And this is crazy—but here's my number, so call me maybe. It's hard to look right, at you, baby—but here's my number, so call me maybe."_

Lavi fakes a mock bow after he's done, and several students nearby burst into scattered applause. The redhead grins, flushed from the performance.

"So how was that?"

Allen is barely holding in his laughter when he pats Lavi on the shoulder. "…You're in," he says, breath lost as he chuckles some more. "You're definitely in."

"What the fuck, hell no," Kanda protests, slamming his hand on the table.

"Kanda," Allen starts patiently, smiling. "He's good."

"That was _stupid_."

"Song choice aside, he _can_ sing," Allen retorts. "He's pretty good, actually."

"Aw, thanks, Al."

Kanda scoffs. "As if you would know."

Allen looks over with a raised eyebrow. "I know better than _you_. You hold the bass. You barely even sing."

"I can't hear you over my perfect pitch, dumbass."

"Stupid Kanda, you just confirmed that something _is_ wrong with your ears—"

Before the argument can drag out further, Lenalee appears in tow with an arm around her shoulder from a grinning guy behind her.

"What's going on?" she asks, eyes shifting between the two guilty ones before she spots the redhead at the side. "Lavi?"

"Oh. Lenalee! You're in this society too?"

"President, actually."

"Wait, I've seen you before too, somewhere," the guy behind Lenalee says curiously, dropping the shoulder hold.

Lavi blinks and squints. "Yeah. You're right. First year, sci-fi society pub crawl. You're Alma, right?"

"Shit, that's a fucking good memory you have there," Alma says, impressed. "I don't have the same, though, sorry. Nice to meet you again."

"Nah, it happens. And same, dude."

Kanda scowls. "Why the fuck does everyone know the idiot?"

"It's just you, you antisocial prick," Allen sniffs, and dodges the kick that attempts to trip him.

"Aww Yuu, don't feel left out," Alma coos, coming over to wrap his arms around the other's neck, to which Kanda did not take well to. "We love you very much, don't forget that."

"Fuck—I don't even want to know, stop touching me you idiot."

"So what brings you here, Lavi?" Lenalee asks, and Allen rushes to answer excitedly.

"He's our new member!"

"He is not fucking joining!"

"Lenalee," Allen continues as Alma muffles Kanda's mouth for kicks. "I can vouch that he can sing. And he _talked_ to Kanda _alone_ and didn't get killed. That's enough to go with, don't you think?"

Everyone turns to look at Kanda for a short moment before Lenalee nods. "You're in."

"You can't fucking be serious—mmphh—Alma get your fucking hand—_mpppph_!"

The redhead isn't…_bad_, Kanda will admit, but there's no way in hell that he's _good_. Not to mention the guy is weirdo and creeper and a damn idiot. But of course everyone ignores his very valid opinions in times like these. They're all going to regret it, they'll see.


	4. Halloween AU

**Halloween—you're dressed as a sexy cop and oh god please arrest me AU.**

_Notes:_ For sparklymirror on tumblr.

* * *

><p>It's 4 a.m. in the damn morning and Kanda has to breathe in deeply to control his temper before he exits his car. It's been a <em>long<em> night—morning—whatever, thanks to the bloody stupid holiday that invites people to dress up as weird shit and do more weird shit. It is—was Halloween, so the row of houses he's at are all decorated with orange lights and glowing skeletons and fake cobwebs, god, Kanda can already imagine the amount of complains they'd get in the morning with all the trash (decorations) on the streets, especially by fucking kids who think it's a great occasion to paint a giant dick on the pavement with party sprays.

The only reason why he's alone on night shift is because no one wants to take the night shift on Halloween even if they're paid extra for the night, mostly because his colleagues have those lame parties. Those same lame parties he's been getting complains for all night long for the noise, and this is like the ninth house that he's going to "ask politely" to keep fucking noise down.

It's 4 a.m., fuck, Kanda normally is alright with dealing with night shifts because his concentration doesn't break that easy, but today's been extra aggravating with the stupid holiday that he doesn't understand why the hell is anyone even _celebrating_ Halloween, it's not like it's an _actual_ event. At least he's off the next day, he really needs to work out this bloody stress. Taking another deep breath, he touches his back near his hip where he clips his baton—he doesn't carry a gun, country laws, but it's more than enough for dealing with stupid people, which is basically what he deals with on a daily basis—and steps out of the car.

The house that he's been called to warn is diagonally cross the street, with some weird tinsel glitter wrapped around the front of the door and some kind of white mascot on the front lawn with fake cobwebs pulled around it. As he gets closer he realises the white thing is a huge _Michelin Man_ toy, but before more feelings of incredulity seep in, he's close enough that his eardrums can bleed from the sheer _noise_ that coming from behind the front door.

It's not even music—it's just metal clashing and screaming, and then obnoxious laughing and more shrieking.

Kanda knocks the front door sharply, but the shouting continues, so he bangs his fists against it hard. It takes a while but suddenly the inside is quiet and there is a hiss of, "I told you guys to keep it down!" in a voice that sounds kind of familiar. Some murmurings happen and Kanda clicks his tongue impatiently.

"Open up, this is the police," he demands, banging on the door again.

He know he's not supposed to bang on the door but if the stupid kids inside think they can sneak out of the house to escape trouble they've got another thing coming. Silence, and then suddenly there's a panicked, "Lavi, don't—someone grab him—" before the door opens abruptly, just as Kanda's about to bang the door another time.

A redhead who looks about his age is suddenly right into his face, and Kanda reflexively steps back to keep his personal space, but he curses under his breath for getting caught off guard.

He eyes the redhead's eye patch plastered on the other's face. "Are you the owner of this house?" he grounds out, irritated.

"Hmmm? Ah...owner…nah, panda pays the bills and shit," the other breathes out with a slight slur, and Kanda immediately realises that the other person is _drunk_.

"I got a call from one of your neighbours—" Kanda begins in standard procedure, but the redhead's attention seems to be roaming everywhere over him except to listen.

"Are you the stripper?" the other leans further forward, this time with an interested glint. "Fuck, you're hotter than—mmphhhhh—"

"I am so sorry, office…r," Another boy cuts in and muffles the redhead's mouth with force, bowing low, but the last syllable stills when he realises _who_ it is at the door. "Kanda?"

Kanda squints. "Who the fuck are you?"

"It's _Allen_, you jerkface," the boy—Allen—hisses, sending a narrowed glare.

In Kanda's defense, the other doesn't have that weird scar or white hair that he's used to seeing thanks to _whatever_ the beansprout is wearing (he can't be arsed to tell), but he supposes he should've known when he heard the familiar voice across the door earlier on.

"Beansprout," he presses his lips together. "Whatever. What the hell's going on? I heard fucking screaming from across the street."

"Uh…just a party," Allen grins, almost sheepishly, but the redhead he's muting with his hand now clings to him and tries to fight with the hold.

"Don't you stupid kids have a bedtime curfew?" Kanda raises an eyebrow. "And you're underage, why the fuck is that idiot drunk?"

"I'm 22, you prick," Allen answers calmly. "I'll admit the noise was our fault, we'll keep it down."

"Get everyone out of the damn house," Kanda rolls his eyes. "It's fucking late."

"Yeah, yeah."

"Now."

"But—"

"_Now_, beansprout," Kanda demands flatly. "I don't have the patience to deal with this shit again."

"You don't have the patience to deal with anything," Allen mutters, but he does turn over his shoulder. "Guys, sorry, party's over. Go home."

There's a chorus of disappointment but Kanda doesn't budge and people start strolling out the door. There are less people than he expects, maybe about eight or so as they leave in a group, before leaving Allen and the redhead back in the house.

"This _is_ his house," Kanda cocks his head to the redhead who looks intent to molest Allen with his wandering hands.

"Yeah—Lavi, _Lavi_," Allen hisses, smacking the hands away. "Stop that."

Some muffled protest comes from the behind the hand over the other's mouth, before Allen abruptly takes his hand back and wipes his palm on the redhead's shoulder.

"I told you not to bite me," Allen sighs.

"Why did everyone go?" the redhead—Lavi—pouts, clinging on to Allen's shoulder with his weight rested on the other. "I still haven't got my kiss, unless Al, you wanna—"

"No," Allen presses his palm flat on the other's face. "Why are you always like this when you're drunk?" he mutters.

Lavi whines and turns his attention to the policeman watching them with a disgusted expression. "Hey, you wanna kiss me?"

"…_What_."

Allen starts coughing and Kanda knows the fucking beansprout is _laughing_.

"Is kissing part of stripping? If not Al will pay you more—"

Allen's coughing upgrades to straight out laughter and Kanda feels his eyebrow twitch. The funniest—or not—thing is that it's not the first time that he's been mistaken for some lewd stripper display, but Kanda doesn't _get_ it—he's wearing the proper uniform like all his colleagues but he always gets some stupid pervert leering at the stretch of uniform over his chest or over his ass. Kanda's hand rests on the top of his baton.

"Lavi, stop," Allen gasps between breaths. "H-he will arrest you if you keep this up."

"With that uniform, he can arrest me anytime," Lavi grins widely, and then the redhead suddenly takes a step forward and grabs the front of Kanda's shirt.

Kanda prides himself on being ready for any situation, but he definitely _did not_ expect the redhead to grab him and press their mouths together. In less than a split second, Kanda's reflexes kick in and he has the redhead sprawled on the ground with the other's wrists pinned to the back and the handcuffs in in his other hand.

Lavi groans in pain. "Oh god, can we do this on the bed?"

"What the _fuck_," Kanda hisses, refusing his face to burn red.

"Kanda!" Allen yelps when he sees that Kanda is genuinely intending to arrest the redhead. "Hey, hey, let him go."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Kanda snaps. "The idiot _assaulted_ me!"

"It was just a kiss," Allen tries to calm the angry cop, but it only serves to aggravate the other further. "Even if it is your first kiss, it's just—"

"_That's not the fucking point!"_

"Please don't arrest him," Allen winces. "Lavi, he…he does _that_. When he's drunk."

"So?"

"His uncle will kill him if he's brought to the station. Kanda, come on. He's harmless. Look, he's already asleep."

Sure enough, the redhead has stopped struggling for some time and is now out cold on the ground.

"…Tch," Kanda resists the urge to rub his temples. "How the fuck do you know fucking idiots like him?"

"I have a life, unlike you."

"Fuck you, beansprout." Kanda stands up and shoves the handcuffs back into his pocket. He gives a light kick to the sleeping body on the floor and grinds his teeth. "Whatever. Get home, bean. Or not. I don't care."

Allen rolls his eyes. "Thanks, Kanda," he says instead, but Kanda has already turned his heel and is stalking back to his car.

Allen glances at Lavi and looks back at the figure retreating fast. "Kanda!" he calls. "When he's not drunk, Lavi's a really nice guy, so if you want to—"

But he gets a backward flipped middle finger in return, and he grins.


	5. Volleyball AU

**Volleyball ****AU.** (I'm in too deep with Haikyuu. I also don't know the rules of volleyball ;v;)

* * *

><p>It's coming up to three years, but even the roar of triumphant and excitement of their team scoring isn't enough for Lavi to tear his gaze away from the dark-haired young adult smirking just barely perceptibly in satisfaction as the other wrists bumps their captain for that victory. It doesn't even make sense, sometimes, because the person he's inevitably drawn to isn't the one who made that spike, but he's the <em>setter<em>. Yuu Kanda, half-Japanese with a decent height for volleyball, is what people call a 'genius setter'—the name had been floating around the courts since middle school, Lavi hears, though Lavi only joined to play when he was in high school.

From the spectator point of view, their captain, Alma Karma, is the one who steals the spotlight—the captain is _good_, one of the best well-rounded players ever, with solid receives and an incredible penchant to spike pass the blockers—but Yuu Kanda is the one who's able to set up their attacks from any angle, at any speed, with deadly accuracy. There's that incredibly fast toss that's a signature of the setter, sometimes it's so fast that no one really notices that he's even _setting_ the ball, just when one of their wing spiker slams their hand forward in blind faith, the palm always connects. It's eerie, but it's incredible, and Lavi always feels a chill down his spine after.

A prod at the back of his shoulder makes him startle and blink, turning around to see Alma giving him a pointed look with raised eyebrows.

"Focus," the captain says with a bit of a smirk. "Win, and then you can ogle Yuu as much as you want later."

Lavi bites his tongue before he can retort something stupid, and stalks a few steps away as the team rotate positions. Alma has never said explicitly outright but he knows that the captain _knows_, and he's half afraid that the other would tell the setter about his unhealthy staring (he's curious, okay, he's just impressed, it's _nothing_) because Alma and Kanda have been tight since forever—he's seen them on the court together at the matches since high school, and he's sure they've been playing together since young too, because their movements are always in sync. It still catches him off guard sometimes, when Kanda suddenly tosses right to the end of the court and Alma is waiting in mid-air for it.

They're at 23-21, them in the lead, and its Kanda's serve. Lavi glances looks past the net at their opponents and spies the look of dread on their faces—he almost laughs, but then he remembers his first match in high school and being on the other end of the court when Kanda served. It was a miracle he didn't wet his pants, to be perfectly honest.

The setter takes a slow breath when the whistle blows, and then there's that sharpened concentration in the other's eyes, dark and confident, before the ball goes up into the air. One, two, and the setter pitches forward, jumping up in perfect form before making a swift connect with the ball. The sound of the ball hitting the ground vibrates across the whole court faster than anyone can blink—service ace.

24-21.

One more, and they'd win the first set. Kanda grips the next ball in his hands tightly, eyes closed when the next whistle blows. Even from the distance, Lavi can see the eyelashes on those structured beautiful features, the scowl that relaxes marginally before the ball is up in the air again. It's just like three years ago he was across the net from where Kanda is, barely breathing when he watched the same movements—the elegant jump, the way the setter's long hair trailed behind him, the confident smack to the ball—its slam to the ground where no one manages to move fast enough to receive it, and then the glow of pride that shines through the setter's eyes before annoyance flashes over as the rest of the team screams in joy, slapping the setter on the back for a job well done.

25-21.

Lavi has never seen anyone serve so flawlessly, so _beautifully_, he's still staring in awe until their libero, a junior by the name of Allen Walker, comes over to pull his sleeve.

"Change of court," Allen says, concerned. "You okay? You look a little out of it."

"Uh, yeah, yeah," Lavi swallows, shaking his head. "Just nervous I guess."

It's their first match of the season, so it's understandable. Last year when he and most of the team were first years in college, they didn't manage to get far into the competition due to their lack of synergy. But this year is different—they've been practising for at least a year together with the exception of Allen, and they've worked out attack and defense strategies that move like clockwork. This year, Lavi is sure they'll get to the nationals at the very _least_.

"They are tougher than I assumed," Allen agrees, glancing over to the other team. "But we won the first set. It'll just be easier from here on."

"I don't know if its confidence or if you're just cocky," Lavi says good naturedly, ruffling the other's hair.

Allen smacks his hand away and points to Howard Link as they join a pseudo team circle around the middle blocker, who's looking at them flatly. The blonde isn't particularly tall—he's average in the group of theirs, Lavi is the tallest, and he's not exactly outstanding like the likes of Kanda and Alma or the freakishly fast with the reflexes of Allen, nor like a powerhouse like Noise Marie, their only 3rd year player and ex-captain. But Link stays on the court _because_ he doesn't stand out; no one pays attention to the middle blocker while the other is silently reading the movements in the game, picking apart the other team's weakness. The longer they are on court, ironically, the surer that they'd win, thanks to Link's dissection.

"They're starting to target you, captain," Link begins.

"Sweet," Alma nods, grinning. "I'd reckon Yuu and I can do a few more before we switch things up."

"Number 10 doesn't seem confident with receives, but number 2 is pretty good, so avoid him. They prefer backcourt play, so I wouldn't suggest a spike from the back, unless we have to send the ball over. As for the final point," he states, looking at Lavi in particular. "Let's do _that_."

Lavi brightens up at the prospect, bouncing slightly on his heels, glancing at Kanda. "Why not earlier?"

"It's the only the first match," Link replies. "We don't want to reveal too much. Coach, anything that I've missed?"

They turn to their coach sitting on the bench, a middle aged man by the name of Tiedoll, smiles. "Watch out for their feints. I noticed they tend to attempt one right after Yuu's serve."

"Yes sir," they chorus, and Alma huddles them into a circle again.

The easy going smile on the captain's lips fades into something more serious as he eyes each and every one in turn, with a final nod to Marie.

"I believe in all of you," he says slowly, before stepping back.

"Well," he shrugs after with a teasing tone, "If we lose, we're going to have _western_, and it'll be on Yuu."

"Fuck off," Kanda growls, storming past all off them to get onto the court first.

The second set starts off with not too much trouble—it's like Allen says, the longer they are on the court, the easier it gets. In less than half the time they're already up to 20-13, and their opponents are getting desperate, as seen by their attempts to dive for Kanda's serves. Their hard work pays off though; their libero manages to catch the ball at an awkward angle, sending the ball into the air, but it becomes a chance ball on their side. Marie receives it perfectly, sending it over to Kanda, and Lavi grins as he and Alma both run up to the net and jump in unison.

Two blockers rush towards Alma and another two rush towards him—because they've been switching the spikers it's a guessing game now, and Lavi sincerely hopes it's him as he smacks his hand forward, and there's the loud slam of the ball on the ground. He blinks when he lands, because his hand didn't connect with anything. Link lands behind Kanda with a satisfied glint in his eyes. It's easy to forget that Link is a decent spiker in his own right because everyone barely pays attention to him on court, something that they like to take advantage of.

21-13.

Lavi understands that and he is a bit proud for that point, but he _wants_ to spike.

"Yuu," he whines to the setter, who scoffs and ignores him. "Come on, toss me."

"No."

"We don't have to do _that_, just a straight spike."

"No."

"Why?" he pouts. "Yuu, come on, Yuu—"

But Kanda turns away from him and he huffs at the other's back before walking over to his next position on court.

Alma leans towards Kanda as Lavi prepares to serve, grinning a bit. "You can indulge him once in a while, you know?"

"Shut up."

"Rather, you can indulge yourself—"

"I said _shut up_, idiot," Kanda snaps, and the ball sails over the net at that moment.

The next three points are harder to get, with their opponents more determined to keep the ball in the air, but their countless weeks of practice and more practice pays off with how seamlessly they feed into one formation and another, tightening their defense or strengthening their offense, and even Kanda has to hold in his flinch when Marie spikes past three blockers with power than none of them can ever match.

24-16.

Breakpoint.

Kanda wipes the seat off his neck as he prepares for the final game. It's Link's serve and soon the ball is up rallying in the air, the opposite team desperately trying not to let him have the ball at a decent angle to set. Allen dives to catch the ball at the edge of the line and Alma quickly covers, Marie hits it over. An awareness passes over their team as Kanda moves to the centre and Lavi moves to the right—their eyes meet for a split second with silent understanding, and once Alma receives the ball cleanly on their side, Kanda is waiting for it.

He's been playing volleyball ever since he can remember—his foster father is their coach, he's been playing it with Alma since they could walk, and he can see the ball come towards him in slow motion, his hands out and ready. He meets gaze with Link who goes up to the left, prepared to jump, but once the ball makes contact with his fingers, he tosses it backward without a look, leaving the blockers heading for Link tripping over their feet the moment they realise that the ball is going in the opposite direction.

They've practised this enough times for Kanda to imagine the whole scene clearly in his head. He pitches it fast and _high_, higher than he would ever do for anyone, but that's the point. Lavi is tall and that's why he's usually the blocker, but the other has some _massive_ leg power—Kanda hasn't seen anyone reach the height that the other has, _ever_, not since three years ago with the redhead on the opposite side of the net. A loud slam right at the edge of the court indicates that they've won the last point, faster than Kanda can turn around or even for anyone to react.

It's scary, Kanda knows, their combination—the insanely fast backward toss and sudden death from that height, the worst is that from where Lavi is in the air, the other sees _everything_ on the other side of the court.

And there's no stopping a spiker who can.

25-16.

The redhead lands on his feet with an excited whoop, eye sparkling and grinning widely. Kanda barely gets to move when the other launches towards him in a hug, shaking him by the shoulders repeatedly.

"Yuu, that was—that was _amazing_, fuck, you are amazing," Lavi grins breathlessly. _"You are amazing."_

The bodies from their other team mates crowd around them and the redhead is still whooping in excitement, high fiving the rest and laughing with joy. Kanda watches Lavi without really meaning to, but he always does after the redhead spikes—it's just, it's just even after one year Lavi still gets so incredibly happy whenever he spikes, it's childish, it's _stupid_, the way his breath shortens when Lavi smiles at him all wide eye and sincere-like in the aftermath.

A hand on his shoulder jerks him out of the staring, and he turns his head, except, a finger pokes into his cheek at the movement.

Alma is smirking at him knowingly, and Kanda immediately scowls.

"Shut up."

"I didn't say anything—"

"Shut the fuck up," Kanda repeats.

Alma sighs, and pats the setter on the shoulder. "Fine. Come on, let's line up."

But of course the captain can't resist leaning closer to the other's ear whispering teasingly, "_You are amazing_," before choking down his laugh as he makes a run for it.


End file.
